


Dona Nobis Pacem

by Amuly



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-29
Updated: 2011-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:06:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto is determined to be Jack's anchor: in life <i>and </i>death. Early Series 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dona Nobis Pacem

 

In the kitchenette, Ianto was staying in motion.

He found it was the best way to handle Jack's deaths. If he just stayed in motion, he wouldn't have to think as hard on what Jack was going through right now, as his body knit itself back together. He wouldn't have to think about the way that creature's tendrils had run through Jack's flesh, seeking out his arteries and sucking, sucking, sucking, until it threw Jack's lifeless, bloodless corpse aside like a candy bar wrapper. He wouldn't have to consider which was worse: the possibility that Jack might not come back this time, or the almost certainty that he would.

Ianto made coffee, going through the motions by rote, like Catholics went through mass. Lever up, lever down. Kneel, rise. Coffee filling the mug. Wine filling the chalice. Stir in the cream, stir in the sugar, tap the spoon on the mug's edge. Have mercy on us, have mercy on us, grant us peace. If Ianto could lose himself in the ritual, he might be able to ignore the warmth at his eyes. The ritual could give him strength – strength Jack needed him to have. 

Not wanting Jack to wake up – _mustn't think of it as coming back to life; Jack just needed a kip –_ on his own, Ianto put together a quick plate of biscuits and headed down to Jack's bunker, carefully balancing the coffee and plate in one hand as he lowered himself down the ladder with his other.

Below, in the dim lighting of his room, Jack was still resting. Ianto had convinced Owen to help him place Jack in his room. There, Ianto could take care of Jack away from prying eyes. In the dim stillness of the bunker, Ianto had stripped Jack of his ruined clothes, tossing them at the base of the ladder, to be incinerated by Ianto shortly. With a sort of quiet reverence he had run a hot towel over Jack's already-closing wounds, making sure no drops of blood or alien residue stained his skin. Finally he had dressed Jack in flannel pajamas and tucked him in, place an extra heavy blanket on top of him to complete his postmortem ablutions.

Exsanguination always had Jack waking up shivering.

Just as Ianto was setting the biscuits and coffee on Jack's side table, the other man awoke with a gasp, arms and legs immediately flinging out in self-defense. But Ianto was there, wrapping Jack up in his arms and making soothing noises into his hair.

Ianto felt Jack relax into him, face brushing against Ianto's shirtfront as the shivers started. Then Jack was pulling away, all shaky smiles and rueful eyes. “Guess you guys took care of it?”

“All under control, sir.” As Ianto spoke, he turned to Jack's side table and picked up the coffee and biscuits, passing the former into Jack's hands first. “Brought you a present,” he joked as Jack drank, trying for a stab at levity. It was the least he could do.

After gulping a mouthful of coffee, Jack snorted and reached for a biscuit with a free, trembling hand. “This tastes a lot better than my _other_ gift,” Jack joked through chattering teeth, popping the biscuit into his mouth. Ianto's eyes followed the hand as it fell to Jack's chest, rubbing it unconsciously. After another swallow of coffee to down the biscuit, Jack smacked his lips together. “Sometimes I get this terrible aftertaste. Like morning breath times a million. Grave-breath.” Jack took another biscuit from Ianto's plate. His light tone was belied by heavy eyes, fixed resolutely down at his still-healing body. 

Ianto nodded, throat constricting painfully. Hoping Jack wouldn't look up and notice, Ianto turned slightly away, willing the tears back down. His heart felt like it might burst, or collapse inward upon itself under the weight of its own grief, like some sort of black hole of sorrow. Figured: Jack Harkness was all it took to make Ianto Jones' heart a black hole.

When he turned back Jack was looking at him, knowing blue eyes running over his face sympathetically. Ianto just raised his eyebrows and took a breath, forcing his lips into a tight smile. “More coffee? You'll need more for the chill.”

Ianto practically ran to the ladder and out of Jack's bunker, swallowing against the lump in his throat. His other _gift._ Bitter tears fell from Ianto's eyes even as he focused on the coffee machine, pulling levers and watching the dark liquid fill Jack's mug. Ianto tried to pull himself together as the coffee poured, not wanting to delay bringing it to Jack a second just because of his own effeteness. He just had to focus on the coffee, on being there for Jack, while the older man put on a brave face and brushed off the aftereffects of his _gift_ yet again. 

  


 


End file.
